


A Bit of Rough Meets a Fancy Man

by lyricalsoul



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Kinky, M/M, OC's - Freeform, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Public Sex, Roleplay, aprilshowersmystradeexchange, fantasies fulfilled, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalsoul/pseuds/lyricalsoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Bit of Rough and a Fancy Man walk into a bar, and things get heated. </p>
<p>"You’re here because you want a little adventure.  A walk on the wild side.”<br/>“You think so?”<br/>“I do.”<br/>“And are you wild?”<br/>“Could be, under the right conditions.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bit of Rough Meets a Fancy Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Irollforinitiative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irollforinitiative/gifts).



> Written for irollforiniative for the April Showers Mystrade Exchange. The request was fluff, with smut. I hope this works for you.
> 
> FYI: This was written with a left wrist in cast. Apologies for any typos I made after my beta, the indulgent Wretched, looked it over.

“There isn’t an island I can purchase for you? Or perhaps a car? I know you’ve professed your undying love to that Cayenne, and I am of acquaintance with a man… well, his belongings were confiscated, and there is-“

“Mycroft.”

“It would be a very nice anniversary present, Gregory.”

“I honestly don't see the point in you saying you’ll give me whatever I want, then trying to convince me to take what you want me to have. Which isn't what I want.”

“It is a skill I’ve finely honed for my work.”

“This is not your work.”

“Apologies. Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“And remind me of the name of the place?”

“You don’t need reminding.”

“I do not. However, I fear I may have misheard you the first time.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s called Two Stags.”

“Oh, dear. Gregory… I am aware that the world we now live in is more welcoming to men who love men, but I am of the belief that frequenting a place with such a name will only lead to trouble. I do not wish to engage in any sort of activity that involves being flirted with by men half my age in skimpy clothing, loud music, or toughs who insist that my love for you is deserving of their fists hitting my person.”

“It’s not like that, Mycroft. It’s just a regular place to get a drink, and perhaps meet someone with ah, like interests. No young blokes in tight shorts, local toughs, or loud music. It’s a dive, for sure, but an old friend of mine runs it, and he doesn’t put up with any nonsense. The food is pretty good, and he serves good beer.”

“Well.”

“That could mean yes or no from you…”

“As I am pleased that you’ve seen fit to remain married to me for the past year, I suppose I could make a concession, if you’re certain this is how you wish to celebrate our anniversary. I did have something more… well, less…”

“Common?”

“No. But I do have a suite on reserve at W, if you are of a mind.”

“Next year. Will you come?”

“I will.”

“And do what I’ve asked?”

“I will not undress in public.”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes. But I must draw a line-“

“No lines. You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life, yes. With my sanity? No. However, it appears that against my better judgment, I have allowed my deep, affectionate regard for you to short-circuit my brain, and I will do this for you because you ask. I’ll see you at nine.”

“Full get-up, Mycroft. Don’t skimp. And try to stay in character.”

“That you think my persona is a character wounds me. The adage ‘what you see, is what you get’ most assuredly applies here, Detective Inspector. Talk later.”

*click*

 

***

I’m seated at the bar on my second pint when he comes in. Posh bloke, a tall, sexy thing, with dark ginger hair, and pretty lips. Kitted out in a fancy suit, a pinstriped affair complete with waistcoat, and a watch chain, holding a fucking umbrella that probably cost more than everything I’ve got on. Not bad looking, either, if you go for rich, snobby arseholes that come round to dive bars looking for a totty for the weekend. Not that I’m anyone’s idea of a totty, but I wouldn’t say no to a fine bloke who looks like he knows his way around a cock.

The thick-necked guy playing pool looks up, smiles, looking like a shark in kiddie pool. Gary, the most desperate man in the West End. “Oooh…pretty.” He puts the stick down, and sidles over to the doorway where the man is hovering. “You lost, Jeeves?”

The man moves around him, and makes his way toward the bar.

Gary steps in his path. “Did you hear me?”

“I did,” the man says, and his voice is like honey. I want a taste. “However, as my name isn’t Jeeves, I did not feel an obligation to respond to your query.”

Shit. Posh and feisty. A sexy combination.

“Is that so?” Gary smiles again, and I feel a little fear for the posh bloke. “Well, not-Jeeves, what’s a classy thing like you doing in a dump like this? Come round to play with the rough trade?”

Ben, the owner and barkeep, also senses trouble, and turns around from the taps. “Back off, Gary.  You know I don’t play that shite in here. Let the man in, and go back to whatever you were doing. Or leave. Your choice.” Ben sounds calm and reasonable, but I happen to know he was involved in some covert ops stuff before he owned this bar. Most blokes recognize it in his large forearms and thick neck, but every now and again, he gets a drunk who forgets.

“No harm, Ben.” Gary flushes a deep red. “Just being friendly, yeah? Don’t find many chaps of high quality ‘round these parts. Just doing my bit to make sure he’s not got lost.”

Ben wipes down the space to my left, and motions to the posh guy. “Not lost, right?”

“Not at all.” The man sounds like he’s purring. “You do allow those who are not regulars to drink and watch the rugby, do you not?”

Gary laughs, and the other arseholes near the pool table join in. “Good one, Jeeves. You’re on the wrong side of town.”

“Back off, Gary,” I say, pushing off the stool, arms loose at my sides. “Let him pass.”

“You would take up for him, you tosser,” Gary sneers. But he moves aside, and glares as the guy brushes past him. “Just looking for trouble.”

I breathe out in relief and settle back on the barstool. Shit. Not how I wanted to spend my night.

Mr. Posh slides onto the stool next to me with only a slight grimace, hooking his umbrella on the countertop. “Macallan, neat.” He hands a few notes out to Ben. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“No problem,” Ben says, waving off the notes. “No tab, since you look like a bloke that can pay for his drinks. Stay clear of those blokes, though. Trouble.”

“Indeed.” He slides the notes back in his inside jacket pocket, and smiles. “I will, of course, bow to your expertise in such matters.”

God, that voice is silk sheets and champagne and all kinds of other things I shouldn’t be thinking about. I take another sip of lager, and sigh. Way out of my league.

He touches my arm. “And thank you for your help also. I’m not crowding you, am I?”

“You’re welcome. And no.”

“Good. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Too late for that.”

He turns, and I note that his eyes are just as odd as he is. Grey, maybe blue, with large dark irises. Reminds me of a stormy day. “Why?”

“Look around you. See anyone else in a bespoke suit and tie? In a waistcoat? Anyone with an umbrella that costs more than a small car?”

“I admit to being a bit…overdressed for this establishment, but it will rain later. You’ll be soaked, and I’ll be nice and dry.”

“Won’t make much difference when you’re being stalked by the horniest man in London. Gary can be very persistent when he’s attracted to someone.”

“I am not without resources. Though, should he make a move before I can extricate myself,” he looks me over with knowing smile, “I’m sure a flash of your warrant card will settle him down.”

I lift my brows at that. “You know that I’m a copper?”

“Detective Inspector, in fact.”

“You must have seen me on telly.”

“I’m merely an observer of human nature, if you will. Your eyes give you away. You’re constantly watching, assessing everything around you, weighing the danger in each person around you. When I entered the room, you immediately dismissed me as a possible physical threat, but still remained on guard because your instincts tell you there’s something about me, correct?”

“Well, other than a bloke like you coming into a place like this, yes. You look like you could destroy us all with one phone call. Menacing, we call it.”

“Oh, dear,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’ll have to work on that.”

I jerk a thumb at the guys at the billiards table. “They didn’t notice. They just saw a potential fancy man to buy them rounds.”

“Yes, well… I am not above buying drinks, should the occasion warrant it, but I feel it sets a bad example to reward bad behaviour.” He lifts both eyebrows. “But if I may continue on about you…?”

“Please. I’m intrigued.”

“You’ve deliberately seated yourself in the so-called ‘power seat’, which is the best seat in the house. You can see everything, and everyone. No one can get behind you. Your left hand tends to settle at your hip, indicating that you used to carry something heavy on that side – a club perhaps? And your posture screams military, or some type of official training.” He smiles as Ben sets his drink in front of him. “Thank you, Ben. Can you give my friend here another...” He looks at my glass, glances at the taps. “…honey dark, please?”

“I’m impressed.”

“Simple observation.”

“I know another bloke who does that. Not as civil as you, though.”

“My mother insisted that manners would be the difference in who lives and dies at world’s end. Though I thought it was rubbish, one cannot outrun one’s upbringing.”

“Only a mum would think something like that. What else do you observe?”

“Too soon to tell right now.” He smiles. “Though I should admit that I may have glanced at a television and saw you at the press conference last week.”

“Cheater.” I hold out a hand. “Greg.”

“Using all advantages,” he corrects, taking my hand in firm grip. “Mycroft.”

His hands are as soft as a baby’s bottom, and his long fingers are tantalising. “Even your name is posh. And your hands are so soft. You don’t seem like the type to hit up a dive like this to watch a match. Or to watch a match, actually. What are you really doing here?”

“Exactly that.” He sips at his drink and makes a pleased sound that I really would like to hear under different circumstances. “A drink and a match.”

 “Hm.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, because a posh chap like you could probably go to the match, and sit in a right fancy box, if you were of a mind. You’re here because you want a little adventure.  A walk on the wild side.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“And are you wild?”

“Could be, under the right conditions.”

“Ah.” He blushes and sips his scotch.

“I surprised you. I like that.” I smile and take a large draw of my beer. We drink in silence for a bit, and then, filled with liquid courage, I decide to get a little bolder. “I’d love to take you to mine and muss you right good. Peel you out of all those layers, and make you moan. Send you back to your pals with a great story about the bit of rough you picked up at the pub.”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Who said anything about kissing?”

He blushes again. “Figure of speech.”

“You look like a clean fellow. I’d kiss you. All over. Out in the alley. Right now, if you’re of a mind.”

He presses his lips together, and shakes his head. “In the alley? Very crass.”

“Well, if you wanted something classier, you’d be at some grand hotel bar, letting some investment broker chat you up. He wouldn’t have a warrant card, though, and would probably run if Gary and his gang decided to cause a ruckus.”

“More than likely. I must admit that my plan to escape the confines of my daily life was not well thought out.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to do things without thinking them through. Do I make you nervous?”

“Not nervous, no.” He lifts his shoulder in what may be a shrug. “You make me want things that I shouldn’t. I’m not usually so… friendly. People say I’m made of ice.”

“Ice melts under the right conditions.”

“Yes. And you’re the perfect person to melt it, aren’t you?” He rakes those beautiful eyes over me, and nods. “Those dark, deep brown eyes, like pools of chocolate. And the hair… grey is the wrong word for it. Silver, maybe, if I may indulge in a bit of fantasy. I wonder how it would feel under my fingertips…. Soft and thick, perhaps? And you, in those perfectly fitting trousers and complexion flattering shirt. One look at you from the entryway, and I couldn’t get past thinking how you would look as I peel you out of them. And just like that, I’m melting.”

“Fuck,” I say, downing the rest of my beer. “You have a way with words. Got me heated up, with all your talking. And I hope it’s not just talk.”

“That remains to be seen.” He smiles into his glass. “I would never force your hand.”

I laugh at that, and catch Ben’s eye. “Can we have fish and chips? Extra dark on the chips.”

“I know, I know,” Ben sighs at my usual order. “I’m already cooking them. You know that just ruins them.”

“Crispy, dark chips are a gift from heaven,” I defend.

“I wouldn’t know,” Mycroft replies. “I don’t eat chips.”

“You’ll insult Ben if you don’t. Besides, the match will be on in a bit, and you won’t be able to hear yourself think, let alone order anything to eat.”

“Is there a lighter fare that I might have? I try to stay away from fried things.” He sighs and takes another sip. “I’m on a diet.”

“For what? Those long, slim legs that I’d love to have around my waist, and your nice shoulders that look sturdy enough to hold mine… You’re one tall, sexy glass of lager from where I’m sitting. Everyone in the place is jealous of me.”

“To say that this lot is jealous isn’t saying all that much, if you’ll pardon my frankness. And you’ve had three beers; your judgment is clouded.”

“Well, the lighting is a bit dim, but I know sexy when I see it. I most certainly wouldn’t rush off after a night in the bed with you. You’re sexy enough that I’d let you stay ‘til morning so you could experience the Greg special.”

“I’ll wager it involves a joint shower and your version of a fancy breakfast,” he laughs. He drains his glass, and motions at Ben. “One more, and make the next one soda and lime, please. I’m at my limit.”

Ben nods, and shuffles off to the other end of the bar.

“Not much of a drinker, I see.”

“Oh, I can drink with the best of them, but I don’t think it prudent to do so in an unfamiliar place. I deem it wise to stay alert so that I don’t miss anything.”

“You’re ace at innuendo. Very deserving of the special, and then some.”

“The breakfast part is most likely beans on toast or takeaway from some dreadful café.”

Oh, he’s funny, too. Just icing on the cake. “If it helps, I use good bread for my toast.” I give him a lascivious look. “You, I’d take out to the café to show you off.”

“I do not frequent cafes.”

“Of course not. You can have yoghurt, then.”

“Hm.” He hands Ben more notes as another scotch is set in front of him, along with a plate. I get another beer, and a plate of fish and chips.

Mycroft eyes the plate with curiosity. “What is this?”

“Steak sandwich,” Ben says with a big grin. “Fish and chips would be wasted on you because you look like a bloke with taste. Greg doesn’t have any.” He looks from Mycroft to me, then back at Mycroft. “Well, in food, anyway. It’s a nice, aged ribeye, cooked medium, with some tomatoes and wild greens I grow out back, and a balsamic reduction on homemade bread. Enjoy.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft smiles as Ben goes to the other end of the bar. “Seems like a very nice fellow.”

“Retired military, so watch out. He could probably break you in half with a spoon.”

“I’ll try to be careful.” He takes up the knife and fork, and cuts a small piece of the sandwich. “Looks quite tasty.”

“Oh, you are posh. Eating a butty with a knife and fork?”

“My tie was handmade expressly for this suit; I’d not like to see it ruined by a balsamic reduction, no matter how delicious.” He eats the forkful and moans. “And this is in no way a butty. Would you like to taste it?”

That tiny moan went straight to my cock, and I shift a bit on the stool to ease the ache. I watch him chew for a long second, then shake my head to clear it. “I would.”

Something in my tone makes him smile shyly. “I meant the sandwich. The steak is sublime. I had no idea that a pub-“

“Local,” I correct.

“Local,” he continues, “had such delectable offerings. Present company included.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere with me,” I say with a waggle of my brows. “Keep going.”

“As if you don’t know.” He slices off another bite of the sandwich, spears it, and holds out the fork to me. “Have a taste.”

Without hesitating, I wrap my lips around the fork, and suck the bite into my mouth. “Oh, that is lovely,” I say after I’ve swallowed. “Way better than fish and chips.”

He snatches a chip from my basket and pops it in his mouth. “Not half bad… perhaps not ‘dark’ next time.”

“Next time, hm?”

“We’ll see,” he says with a nice blush.

“Yes, we will, because I absolutely adore seeing you blush, and I want to see if you blush all over.” I point at the sofa near the wall telly. “Want to watch the match from there?”

He sips his drink, and has another forkful of his sandwich. “Perhaps Ben could be persuaded to pack our meals to go… I’ve a television about that size in my den.”

“Do you now?” I try not to sound too anxious. “How can you be sure you’ll be safe with me? I could be a serial murderer, or a blackmailer.”

“I saw you on television, Detective Inspector. Quite harmless in that respect. And again, I'm not without resources.”

I smile. “This type of thing typical for you? Picking up a bit of rough at the local, take him home and shag him?”

“If you’re reluctant because you think I may be so overcome by your prowess that I may resort to stalking you at the Yard,” he says stiffly, “I assure you that I would do nothing of the sort. If in fact, you are merely teasing me, allow us to part company, and I’ll go in search of another, more willing companion. Gary, perhaps?”

The thought of Gary putting his unwashed hands anywhere near him makes me growl low in my throat. “He couldn’t handle you.”

“And you can?” He quirks his eyebrow at me, and eats more of the sandwich. “I’ve been told I can be quite hard to please.”

“Oh, I can handle anything you dish out,” I counter. “Want to give it a test drive? Sample the goods?”

“Here?” He frowns and looks around. “I am not given to trysts in public toilets.”

I toss my napkin down, and slide off the stool. “Follow me.”

He’s off the stool and behind me without a second’s hesitation. Good sign. “Lead the way.”

“Be back in a tic, Ben,” I call over my shoulder. The door closes as the guys inside let out a collective whistle. 

We walk through the corridor, past the toilets, and outside behind the building. I pull him into a small alcove, and back him against the wall. “What were you saying, then?” My mouth is inches from his, and I want nothing more than to feel those soft-looking lips against mine. “Something about handling me?”

“I have no issue with being able to enjoy and participate in whatever it is you have in mind,” he says, sounding a bit breathless. “Though I am only seventy-three per-cent certain this is a good idea.”

“I think it’s a grand idea.” I brush my lips against his, and smile as he closes his eyes in anticipation. “Oh… you like that then?”

“Who wouldn’t want to kiss you? Sexy, brave, and the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking into.”

“I could listen to you talk all night,” I whisper against his lips. “However, I’m a man of action…”

“Yes,” he whispers back. “Show me…”

I kiss his chin first, sucking at the slight dimple there, then move along his jaw line, up to his ear, delighted when he shivers. “Ticklish?”

“Sensitive,” he corrects, but tilts his head to allow me access to more of his neck.

My hands run along his back and shoulders, and I groan in frustration at the lack of skin I get to feel. “Do you dress like this all the time?”

“Yes,” he sighs. “But don’t let that deter you from your mission to actually kiss me.”

“You like kissing?” I ask, ghosting my lips over his again.

“More than I like talking about kissing,” he huffs. “Stop teasing. You’re supposed to be making it worth my while.”

“So I am.” I take his hands and put them on my waist. “Hold on, then.” I lean in, and tease his mouth open with my tongue. He moans, and it spurs me on to go further. Covering his lips with mine, I drink him in, and the taste of him, the feel of his tongue skating across my own is driving me mad.

All too soon he pulls back. “I…” He swallows hard. “Perhaps we should go somewhere more, ah, private?”

“Mmm…” is all I can manage. Looking at his lips, wet and slightly swollen has sent a jolt straight to my cock. “I’m going to need a bit more incentive.” I press him back against the wall, and kiss him again, this time slow and sweet, letting my hands roam about his back and arse. I love the feel of the expensive clothes under my hands, but I want to feel his skin – to feel if his skin is just as soft as his shirt.

He moans again, and spreads his legs just a bit to let me slide a leg between them. 

My hands move around to his chest, sliding down to the front of his trousers. “No belt. Braces?”

“Belts ruin the line,” he says with a groan.

“Hell of a challenge, out here in the alley,” I say. I wrench his zip down and ease a hand inside the opening. “Ah… silk pants. Nice, that.”

He moves his hips back. “I… ah… this is not the best place for this, I’m sure.”

“Shh…it’s fine. No one can see.” I rub a hand over the opening of his pants, parsing out what I’m working with. “Nice, nice.”

“Oh…” His hips shift forward a fraction. “Your hands…”

“Cold?” I run the tips of my fingers through the fine hairs just above his cock, and smile. “So soft there. And your cock feels heavenly in my hand. Curves up, does it? Mmph… Christ, but you’re driving me mad…”

“In a good way, I ah… dear lord…” He gasps as I coax his cock through the opening of his pants and trousers. “That’s-“

“Perfect,” I say, griping him firmly, and starting a nice, slow jacking motion. “Just perfect.”

“Maybe we should…ah….” His hand goes around my wrist. “It’s too much. I… too fast. I may release if you keep that up.”

“Not yet,” I laugh, and before he can form the question I see in his eyes, I’m on my knees with his cock in my mouth.

“OH!”

I suck gently, then move back, then forward again, gripping his hips to move him with me. I pull back to tease the tip of his cock, then swallow him down again. I keep up this insane rhythm until he’s panting and meeting my mouth move for move with his hips.

His hands go to the sides of my head, holding me still. “You shouldn’t… it’s… I’m so sensitive right now, and I can’t… please…”

“Mmm…” I pull off his cock with a lewd slurp, and look up at him. “You don’t want to come?”

“Oh, I do,” he says, and he sounds so earnest and needy, I can’t help but smile. “But not out here in the alleyway.”

“No?”

“No.”

I look at him. His face is flushed, and he’s licking his lips like he’s parched. “Why not?”

“It’s… oh, bugger.” He hooks hands under my armpits and hauls me up. “Not like that.” He turns me, and presses me against the wall. “Like this.” His lips cover mine, and before I can even form a sentence, his tongue is doing all sorts of wonderful twists and turns in my mouth.

I moan as he grinds his hard cock against my stomach, and wrench my mouth from his. “Let me…” I unfasten my trousers and take my cock in hand. “Yeah,” I moan as his hand covers mine. “Help me.”

“Quite large,” he says, looking down. “See what we do to each other….I’m so hard, it’s nearly painful. You are quite the talent, Greg.”

Our cocks moving between both our hands has to be the most arousing thing I’ve ever seen or done. “Jesus… your hands are so fucking soft…”

“And yours are pleasingly rough,” he responds, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “I’m not going to last much longer if you keep biting at my ear.”

“Good.” I nip his ear again, and thrust up hard in his hand. “Oh, yeah… just like that…”

“Perfect, perfect,” he pants. “Imagine us in bed together, doing this. Do you want that?”

“Oh, fuck…!” I shout, and with a hard thrust forward, I come over both our hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He pulls away with a low, deep moan. “Greg…” he says, then comes right across the back of my hand.

We stand there for a few moments, breathing heavily in the dim light of the alley, and I laugh. “Damn, you’re something else, Mycroft.”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this bacchanalian display, Gregory. Your exhibitionist tendencies are going  to be my undoing.”

“I knew you wouldn’t stay in character after the sex part.” I shake my head. “You loved it. Just like you loved me handcuffing you to the bed at that inn, doing that fake drugs bust in your office while your assistant was away, and giving you a blow while you dealt with the PM. But, it wouldn’t be right if you didn’t moan about it after.”

He ignores me in favour of wiping his hand and cock with his handkerchief. “And of course, you have no handkerchief. Your fantasies are poorly planned."

“I usually use my shirt,” I say.

“Unhygienic for certain,” he counters, and holds out the handkerchief to me. “You may as well, since it’s already ruined.”

“Your post-sex behaviour could use some work.” I take the handkerchief, and clean myself up. “You want to go back in and watch the match?”

“No.” He pushes away from the wall, and gives me a frank, appraising head to toe look. “I would like to go home and have sex with you, without fear of being bitten by vermin. That is, if you’re able.”

I lift my eyebrows. “Able? I could go again right now, my fancy man. Just say the word.”

“Such a demanding bit of rough.” He takes his handkerchief back, and puts it in his pocket with a frown. “Would Ben be averse to making our meals to go?”

“Not once I explain, and you provide a generous tip. I’ll get our dinner, you get the car here.” I frown, and pat my jacket pockets. “Before you go…”

“What is it?”

I hold out a small jewelry box. “Happy anniversary.”

“What is-“

“Bloody Holmeses,” I sigh. “Take it.”

I try not to notice that his hand trembles a bit when he takes the box. “From an expensive jeweler. Gregory, you sh-“

“You didn’t get many gifts as a kid, did you? Never met a family who has to be coaxed to open gifts.”

He opens the box, and looks at the contents “Oh.” He takes the watch chain from the box carefully, holding it up to the light. “It’s exquisite. But it’s too much… I didn’t get you anything half as-“

“It’s a token of my affection for you,” I say, “not a bribe. The coin hanging from the chain is the one my great-grandfather wore for luck. In the war… some war in the late 1800’s. I’m sure you know which one.”

“I do.”

“He made it out unscathed, and passed it down to my dad, who gave it to me when I became a copper. I had the coin cleaned up, and went to procure a chain for it, which, if you ask me, is a bloody thankless task. To have to know the cut of the waistcoat, if it’s in the French style, English style, how heavy the watch is, how you like it to drape… “

He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “Tedious, I know. Your efforts are greatly appreciated. I will cherish it always.”

“I’m turning you into a big ball of mush.”

“Yes.  Though I do not find it as irritating as I once did.” He leans in and kisses me soundly. “Thank you, Gregory. For the gift, and for consenting to marry me, even though I didn’t ask you properly. I did not anticipate that it would change me in such a significant manner, but I do appreciate having you in my life.”

“I love you, too,” I say, trying not to turn into my own ball of mush. “I’m going back in. Come on in when you’ve gathered yourself.”

***

When I go back inside, Ben smirks at me. “Where's your fancy man?”

I blush. “Well, you should know that-“

“Gave him a bit of rough, and he couldn’t handle it, eh?” Gary waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Not many that can handle you, mate. Should have let me have a go first, warm him up…”

“Fuck off, Gary,” I hiss. “Just because you can’t pull 'em like I can…”

“All right boys,” Ben cuts in smoothly, “simmer down.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I say. “I need a fish and chips and a steak sandwich to go, if it’s not too much bother.”

“Do you now?” Ben, has known me and my habits for five years, and doesn’t miss a trick. He gives me another full on smirk. “And why would that be?”

“That bloke…Mycroft, he’s my, ah…well, he’s… it’s a bit… he’s my chap,” I stammer. “Well, my husband, actually.”

“Wait… what? You got married and didn’t tell me?” Ben frowns. “Didn’t invite me to the wedding?”

I shrug. “No wedding. We just went and signed the papers. Kept it shush-shush for reasons I can’t tell you.”

Ben smiles and shakes his head. “Good Time Greggie went and got married! So then what was all this?”

“This whole thing? It’s an anniversary present. Of sorts.”

Gary saunters over. “That’s your chappie, and you let him come in her dressed like Marty Bleeding Poppins? I could have hurt him!”

His buddies laugh and nod in agreement.

“He always dresses like that, and don’t let the brolly fool you, mate.” I give them my best evil grin. “You blokes ever hear of the Iceman? He’s the chap the bogeyman tells his kids stories about. That's who my fancy man is.”

***

“Really, Gregory? How droll.” Mycroft says as he strolls back in, nonchalance firmly in place. He could have been outside smoking since there's not hair of piece of clothing out of place.

Too bad Sherlock isn’t around to point out the slight beard burn along his jaw line, and his missing pocket square… evidence he’s been snogging in the alley – but I’ll let him have his illusions. “Only the Iceman would say ‘droll’ in that tone.” I counter.

He ignores me in favour of addressing Ben. “Mycroft Holmes,” he says politely. “I do so hope you’ll forgive our little charade. Gregory is rather incorrigible in certain respects, I fear.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Ben says with a wink at me. “Your food will be ready in a bit.”

“A round for everyone, if you will, as an apology for disrupting their evening.” Mycroft slides a pile of notes across the bar top. “And a favour owed to you for your indulgence. And for your sterling work in the matter of the Norweigan ambassador and the photos.”

Ben actually blushes. “I… you were involved in that?”

“I may have had a hand in certain events.” No one does evasive like Mycroft. “Your participation and skill were duly noted. Your retirement was a great loss.” He holds out one of his business cards. “Should you ever feel the urge to ah… freelance.”

Taking the card, Ben looks at it, impressed with whatever is printed on it. Mycroft has at least twenty different business cards, which he hands out on a case-by-case basis.  “I appreciate the offer. I’ll be right back with your food. Greg, you and I are going to have a serious talk about keeping secrets.”

I grimace and point a finger at Mycroft. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“I didn’t forbid you from announcing our marriage.”

Before I can answer, Ben is back, handing me a bag loaded with food. “My treat to you both. Happy Anniversary.”

“Two rounds of drinks, then.” Mycroft nods at Ben, takes up his umbrella, then smiles at me. “Come along, Gregory. I have yet to give you your gift.”

I snatch up the bag, and try my damndest to ignore the kissing noises, catcalls and hoots from the guys as we take our leave.

***

Much later, I am lying on the sofa with Mycroft spooned behind me, his cock hard and firm inside me. He takes the remote from my hand, tosses it aside, and presses a kiss to my bare shoulder. “There is an instruction manual, Gregory. Why must you be so stubborn?”

“I thought you liked that about me,” I say, taking his long, slender middle finger in my mouth. I suck it for a bit, then let it go. “Besides, it’s a ‘smart’ telly… it should understand what I want it to do.”

“It’s not intuitive. Well, not yet,” he adds. “Do you like it? I can change it if you-“

I move back slightly, and laugh when he groans. “What man wouldn’t love a seventy-inch telly, and a new leather sofa to watch it on? And thou, putting it to me from behind whilst I attempt to learn how to use said telly. I love it, and you, Mycroft. Never doubt that.”

“I do not,” he says, this time pressing a kiss between my shoulders. “This is rather kinky, Gregory.  I fear that I’m going to stick to the sofa, and require medical assistance to be extricated. I do not want to provide Sherlock with another opportunity to mock me.”

“I like to feel you at my back. Hard, and hot, with all that chest hair brushing against me. But if you’re going to complain, you can roll over top of me so you don’t stick.” I clear my throat. “Well, not to the sofa, at least.”

“Insatiable. Incorrigible. Insane.” He sighs, and rolls over to settle between my legs. “I do not believe I’ve had a better evening. Thank you, Gregory. For everything.” He hooks my legs over his arms, and slides back inside me in one long, rough motion. “God…”

“Yeah,” I pant, lifting my hips up to meet his thrusts. “Like that.”

He leans down, and licks my lips. “You make me crazy,” he says, shoving his hips forward. “You make me want things. Want this. Want you. And it’s insane.”

I reach up and put a finger to his lips. “Stop trying to figure it out right now, love, and finish me.”

“Yes.” He drops my legs and delivers a somewhat enthusiastic smack to my arse. “Up, up. Take a ride, Good Time Greggie. Let’s test your mettle.”

“Shit… you heard that?” I move up, and straddle him, sinking down on his cock. “Ah… that’s just… oh, Mycroft…”

“Shh… feel it, Gregory. Let it happen.” He cups my arse and pulls me forward, then back, repeating the motion until we’re both panting and sweating.

“Please…” I moan, taking my own cock in hand, and tugging it frantically. “Harder.”

He obliges me by planting his feet on the sofa, and giving me a series of upward thrusts that jolt my hips hard. He shifts slightly, and gets a direct hit on my prostate. “There… yes, there,” he laughs, and then he’s coming with a deep, fevered moan. “Gregory…”

“Damn it!” I fall forward and spurt across his chest and neck. I breathe in and out, unable to think about moving for the next few minutes.

Mycroft ruffles my hair, and nudges me. “Let me clean us up.”

“Jesus…. I can’t feel my legs.”

He eases me off to the side of the sofa, and grabs the flannel on the coffee table. With gentle hands, he wipes us both down, then lies back down behind me. “You are so perfect. I can’t fathom how I earned such a treasure, but I am extremely grateful.”

I chuckle. “Good sex always makes you sentimental, but I appreciate it. Thank you for indulging me. Happy anniversary, love.”

Instead of his customary protest at the use of endearments, he kisses my neck, his slides his thigh between mine, and wraps his free arm around me. “Happy anniversary, Gregory.”

 

Fin

 

 

 


End file.
